


Sometimes Winter Isn't Half Bad

by c0cunt



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Fluff, Jean has an over the knee prosthetic leg, M/M, Misunderstandings, deaf!Marco, ps do not fuck the soup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5968261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco unintentionally laughs at his new roommate on move in day, but everything gets cleared up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artsmsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsmsh/gifts).



> Happy birthday Arts!!! I hope you enjoy, and have a good day! ^-^
> 
> Excuse the title, everyone knows I'm very terrible at titles.

  When Marco Bodt lost a majority of his hearing in an accident right before his high school graduation, it was...Strange.  He could still talk, but it was the weirdest feeling, like the distortion of sound underwater, all the time.  It was his mother who suggested learning sign language, and while Marco quickly learned the meanings and hand shapes, it wasn’t “true ASL”, as his teacher said.  He was still using the same structure and word order as English, which was annoying for his teacher (who had grown up in a world of culturally Deaf individuals, and felt almost personally offended by Marco’s unwillingness to learn the difference).  It didn’t matter to Marco what his teacher thought, as long as he was able to communicate without having to shove expensive and (woefully) improperly fitted hearing aids into his sensitive ears.  It did change some of the things he put on his college applications the following year, though.

  Getting accepted into his dream university was a piece of cake; Sina University’s slogan prided themselves on diversity in their student body, as best as they possibly could.  There were two entire dorm buildings dedicated to students with special needs, and that of course there was at least one dorm advisor who would be able to communicate with Marco in the way he was most comfortable with, their tour guide assured them, as they had wandered around brightly lit corridors and classrooms, a very perky freshman student called Sasha acting as translator.  And, of course, freshman would be placed together to the best of the school’s abilities.  So it may be possible that Marco would be dorming with an older student, the possibility of that happening larger just based on how many students applied for special need housing.  It didn’t worry Marco; as long as he would be sharing a dorm with someone who would be respectful of his needs, the issue of who his roommate would be wasn’t bothersome.

  Move-in day was very exciting for Marco: This would be the first time he had been so far away from home without his parents or any other family a few miles away at most.  While his mother quietly fretted, Maco couldn’t help but beam and excitedly bounce as he read his room assignment.  Rose dorm, room #107, and his roommate’s name was Jean Kirschstein.  Odd, but he remembered a Thomas Wagner being his assigned roommate just a few weeks ago...Well, Marco hoped that this Jean Kirschstein would be a good match.  Maybe they would have more things in common, and Marco couldn’t help but guiltily wonder why his roommate needed special needs housing.  

  He didn’t find out immediately, even though there was obvious evidence of someone (hopefully this Jean Kirschstein person) having claimed the bed closer to their room’s bathroom.  Marco and his mother unpacked quickly, her quietly tutting as she critically looked at the things on his roommate’s bed (two large unopened suitcases, and a what appeared to be a guitar case).  Just as Mrs Bodt was getting ready to leave, a grumpy looking dishwater-blond man with a darker undercut carefully entered the room, followed by a shorter man with a shaved head who was chattering up a storm and pushing a folded up wheelchair, as well as Sasha, who both Bodts recognized from their tour.  Sasha was delighted to see them, automatically introducing the one pushing the wheelchair as Connie, and the grumpy blond as Jean.

  Jean looked more than a little lost, bordering on overwhelmed, watching Sasha’s hands fly as well as his roommate’s.  The past week hadn’t been going well for him, his original roommate requesting to dorm with someone else, after Jean had broached the topic of why they both needed special housing.  So now, he was stuck with someone he knew absolutely nothing about, and who he couldn’t even communicate with.  Yeah, Jean had picked up a few simple signs from Sasha (things like “hi my name is Jean” or “see you later”, and the order that this new roommate was using seemed different than what he had seen before), but not enough to hold a conversation.  Instead of attempting to say hi, Jean took the opportunity to unpack some of his things from the nearest suitcase.  When he came across his unused sketchpad (probably thrown in there last minute by his mom in case he had a change of heart), he paused and pulled out a pencil, glancing behind him when he realized that everyone aside from his roommate had left the room.

  Marco looked sort of lost, eyebrows furrowed as he stared around their room, all of his things already unpacked.  His roommate’s friends seemed nice enough, and his mother was relieved that there were some people on campus outside of classes he could talk to.  But, his roommate...Hadn’t even acknowledged him.  Marco wondered if it was because he was just now beginning to unpack, or if he was uncomfortable with Marco’s disability.  Whatever the case, it frustrated him as he sat heavily on his bed, watching as Jean scribbled something onto the paper he’d pulled out of his suitcase.  Frustration turned to surprise as Jean tore out the piece of paper and shoved it into his hands before he turned back and continued unpacking.  Blinking slowly, Marco smoothed out the slightly crumpled paper as Jean moved slowly to the unused set of drawers and shoved his clothes in there.

  


_Hi_

_I don’t know sign language that well, so I’m sorry you’re stuck with a shitty roommate me.  I will try, but don’t expect too much from me.  Sorry - Jean_

  


  Marco couldn’t help a small laugh as he read the paper Jean gave him.  So, that’s how it was going to be, eh?  Grinning, Marco looked up, but his smile fell as soon as his eyes fell onto Jean, who was glaring at him dangerously.  The pants Jean had wearing were rolled up higher than mid-thigh, the metal and plastic of his prosthetic leg reflecting harshly in the room’s light, the edges of his nylon sheath just a few shades too light to completely match his skin tone.  Marco flapped a hand anxiously as he looked for a pen, and quickly wrote on the back of the paper that he wasn’t laughing at Jean, but because he was relieved that Jean just wasn’t able to communicate with him in sign and wasn’t actually ignoring him on purpose.  Marco bounced off the bed quickly, and pressed the paper into Jean’s unwilling hand, before letting himself flop back down onto his own bed.  

  Jean glared at the paper that had been forced into his hand as if it was a very moldy slice of pizza or something else equally gross.  Seriously, how fuckin’ DARE this dude, who he just met, laugh at his leg?  Fuckin’ rude asshole.  Angrily, Jean crumpled up the paper and threw it away.  As if he needed someone to write and explain that they were laughing at his leg.  Fuck that noise.  At least Jean had gotten most of his things away, all that needed to be shoved away was the suitcases (which, if he had judged right, would fit perfectly under the bed).  Belatedly, he realized it probably wasn’t a good idea to have taken his leg off before finishing unpacking.  With a frustrated snort, Jean just shoved the suitcases onto the floor by his bed, before curling up and facing away from his rude-ass roomate.  


 

* * *

  


  And that’s how it continued for about a week.  Marco attempted to be friendly to Jean, who was still angry about Marco laughing at him, and Jean ignored all of Marco’s attempted friendliness.  Jean would’ve been thrilled if none of his friends liked Marco, but alas; Marco appeared to be pure goodness incarnate, and soon all of Jean’s friends were bugging him about why he wasn’t at least attempting to be friendly with him.  Generally, Jean was good at ignoring people, but when every single one of his friends seemed to be besties with his roommate, and asking why Jean was ignoring him...Ugh.  Connie was getting on his last nerve about it, and Jean couldn’t help snapping at him as they went to go see his prosthetist about getting a replacement socket for his leg.

  “Fuck, Connie, just leave it alone, that asshole fucking laughed at me and I want nothing to do with him,” Jean snarled eventually, completely done with the nagging to be friends with his roommate.  That shut Connie up for a bit, eyes wide as he drove, and Jean counted it a victory as he remained silent (though texting up a storm) throughout Jean’s entire appointment, not even commenting when Jean asked if it was possible to have his next prosthetic be mostly clear plastic.  It was only as they were seated in the car that Connie spoke again.

  “Yo, Jean, read these, yeah.”  While it was phrased like a question, the way Connie shoved the phone into Jean’s hands and glared at him before starting the car made it less a question and more a demand.  Jean huffed slightly before he started scrolling, snickering unwillingly at the name Connie had used for him.

  


**To:  Hot Bodt**

dude jean says u laughed @ his leg?

 

**From:  Hot Bodt**

so he never did read the note i wrote for him :(

 

**From:  Hot Bodt**

i didn’t know he was taking his leg off but he gave me a note saying he didn’t know sign enough to talk with me and apologize

 

**From:  Hot Bodt**

i was laughing bc i thought HE didn’t like ME bc of my hearing, and wrote back to say that, but apparently he never read that

 

**To:  Hot Bodt**

so...u didn’t laugh @ him

 

**From:  Hot Bodt**

ofc not!!!  why would i laugh at that???

 

**To:  Hot Bodt**

idfk but i’m gonna clear tihs up

 

**From:  Hot Bodt**

thank you Connie, and let Jean know that it’s all water under the bridge for me :)

 

**To:  Hot Bodt**

k

  


Jean blinked slowly after he read the texts.  He read them over again before warily looking at Connie, who seemed to be bored, before reading the texts again.  His immediate reaction was to be suspicious:  Why should he believe that “Hot Bodt” hadn’t been laughing at his leg when he had taken it off that first night?  But, as he held the phone in his hand and thought back on how Marco had acted since then (always waving cheerfully at him, signing a quick ‘good morning’, and generally being the opposite of his own cranky disposition)...It didn’t seem likely that Marco had been intentionally laughing at him.  The phone in his hand buzzed with a new text, making Jean nearly hit the roof of the car in surprise, seeing it was another text from Hot Bodt with a pair of attached pictures.  Jean opened it immediately, blinking at a photo of the crumpled up piece of paper with his own handwriting on it that he remembered writing the first day they’d met.  The second attached picture was the back of that note, with apparently Marco’s handwriting.

  


_Jean -_

_I’m sorry that it looked like I was laughing at you.  I was laughing because I thought that you were ignoring me because you didn’t want to deal with my deafness, but you really just didn’t know how to talk to me.  Again, I’m sorry, but I hope we can still be friends? :)_

_\- Marco_

  


**From:  Hot Bodt**

i knew there was a reason i kept the note!  i can show it to Jean, or maybe you can show him?

  


Jean frowned mightily at the text, not even responding when Connie asked who it was from.  Instead, he thumbed out a message to Marco, slapping Connie’s hand away when he reached over to try and take the phone back.  “You’re still driving, fuck off,” Jean grumbled after slapping Connie’s hand away again, glancing out the window to make sure he was right about that.  The drive back always felt longer than the drive there, at least to Jean (which apparently no one else ever really agreed with him on that), and it was only as they pulled into the parking lot back on campus that Jean tossed Connie’s phone back to him, half a second before there was another buzz of a text.

  


**To:  Hot Bodt**

He saw it, and feels really shitty about how he’s reacted and been treating you.

 

**From:  Hot Bodt**

oh!!! that’s great!!! let him know that he can talk to me whenever he feels like it :)

 

* * *

 

Jean Kirschstein isn’t good with apologies.  Scratch that, Jean Kirschstein hasn’t felt the need to apologize to anyone since he was in 9th grade and accidentally ran over Connie’s foot with his wheelchair about a week after he lost his leg.  So, he wasn’t good at them from lack of the need to (or the want to) apologize.  But, in a way, it was like he had run over Marco’s foot, and hadn’t bothered to say “sorry”.  And that didn’t sit right with him at all.  Which is how, with pizza in tow, Jean shuffled into his dorm room to talk with Marco, who appeared to be studying or doing homework or something else uninteresting on his laptop, with a few textbooks strewn about.  What a nerd, Jean thought, doing homework on a Saturday night.  Marco looked up as if hearing Jean’s thought, a small smile and a wave at him, before diving back into his work.  Which, that just wouldn’t do, since Jean was going to apologize god damnit!

  Without much thought, Jean pulled the little chair in front of his desk to sit facing Marco, dumping the pizzas unceremoniously onto the small amount of desk space left.  Marco looked up again, one eyebrow raised, as Jean pulled out his notepad as he sat heavily in front of him, dragging a hand through his hair with a frown.  “Sorry for being such a rude asshole when we first met” didn’t feel like enough of an apology, but it was the best that Jean could muster up, shoving the notepad towards Marco, gesturing for him to read it.  Marco read it, a small smile on his face as he tugged the pen out of Jean’s hand and wrote back, snickering at the surprised look on Jean’s face at losing his precious pen for a second.  Jean pouted, absolutely not watching Marco’s smile spread even more as he wrote, turning his attention to the stickers on his laptop instead, eyes widening in surprise at seeing two very interesting stickers on it.  One was a little rainbow pride flag, and the other...Was a chibi that Jean immediately recognized from an Etsy store he had been looking at just hours before.

  Jean flapped his hands for the pen and paper, ignoring Marco’s surprised expression, quickly scribbling out “you’re a fan of SparksReactor????”  Jean completely ignored Marco’s scribble of accepting his apology even though it wasn’t needed, shoving the pad back at him and gesturing at the little sticker.  Marco looked even more pleasantly surprised, nodding as he wrote back “yeah! I wanted to get the charms, but I don’t really have anything to hang them off of”.  He paused before passing the notepad back, admiring the tiny little smile that was tilting Jean’s lips up, before mentally shaking himself.  They had just started talking, now was not the time to get distracted by disarmingly attractive roommates, Marco chastised himself.  He didn’t get much homework done that night, enticed by pizza, episodes of One Punch Man, and the way that Jean’s laugh made him light up as they wrote (and, eventually, texted) to each other.


	2. Chapter 2

  Winter and the end of their first semester was rapidly approaching, and while Jean did appreciate the aesthetic of snow and ice, he really fucking hated it.  Especially sloshing his way across campus for a 7am class in the dark, with only a teeny tiny flashlight keychain lighting the barely-cleaned path.  There had been distinct warning from higher beings for Jean to just stay in bed all day, with the slight ache in his leg because he had to wait to get the socket replacement to be cleared by insurance, and the extra time it took to find his damn heavy jacket in the dark (Marco could sleep through any noise, obviously, but any changes in light made him shoot out of bed in alarm) almost making him late, so it made him move faster than was really safe, especially knowing there was ice on the ground.  So,  maybe the universe decided that Jean deserved it when he slipped on an unnoticed patch of ice, landing heavily on the hand that wasn’t holding the flashlight keychain with a high pitched shout of alarm and pain.

  If the universe decided that it should let Jean lay in a pile of slush and ice for five minutes while waiting for help, then the universe was just being a giant dick at that point, but it was at least getting the point across.  Connie finally got there, panting and swearing in his monkey onesie about the shitty weather, just when Jean was absolutely convinced that he would be losing the toes he had left to the cold.  “Nice suit, going to the zoo?”  Jean hissed through his teeth as he was pulled to his feet by the hand he’d landed on, barely staying balanced against Connie’s shoulder.  “Fuckfuckfuck, my wrist man,” He whined, glaring at it accusingly to avoid the severely pissed-off look on Connie’s face.

  “Jean, what the fuck are you even DOING outside, it’s fucking freezing,” Connie snapped, ignoring Jean’s whining noises as he dragged him in the direction of his dorm.  Jean stumbled along, swearing loudly for a few seconds before grumbling “I was heading to class, dipshit, it’s Monday.”  If Connie wasn’t freezing his balls off as well, he’d almost feel pity for Jean’s dumb ass.  “Did you not check the site before heading out, meathead?  All classes are cancelled today, it’s too gross out for anyone to commute.”  Connie sighed, knowing exactly what Jean would say.  Jean barely ever checked the website, declaring that having Connie or Marco tell him if anything was going on would be easier than clicking a few links online, and usually one of them was awake before him, so why bother checking it himself?  

  “Usually you or Marco are awake before me, so I don’t bother,” Jean huffed, proving Connie right.  Well, maybe now Jean would learn to check before heading out so early, Connie thought, still more than a little miffed about having to come rescue him in his favorite pyjamas.  Jean hissed again, flexing his injured wrist, making Connie hesitate and change directions to the parking lot.

  “What the shit Connie, the dorm’s in the other direction,” Jean growled through his teeth, unwilling to open his mouth fully in fear of chattering teeth taking a chunk out of his tongue.  Connie didn’t say anything as he wiggled his keys out of the very convenient kangaroo pouch in the front of his onesie, leading them to his car, which was a helluva lot closer than the dorms.  It was only after they were both in, with the heat blasting as high as it would go, that Connie sighed and reached for Jean’s arm, that was being cradled protectively close to his chest.  Jean hissed even as he let Connie gently take his arm, wincing at a particularly painful twinge as Connie examined his wrist.

  “Well, good news is I don’t think it’s broken.  Bad news is we’re gonna go to the emergency room and make sure it isn’t broken,”  Connie decided, his tone giving no room for argument.  Of course, Jean wanted to argue, but arguing with a tired, pissed off pre-med student when something medical was involved would be like arguing with a brick wall.  So Jean just huffed in annoyance, even though he was internally grateful that Connie was such a good friend, as they drove in silence.

 

* * *

  
  


  A hairline fracture.  Jean fucking Kirschstein had gotten a hairline fracture in his right wrist because he couldn’t be bothered to look and see if classes had been cancelled before setting out for his 7am class.  Marco was ready to strangle him by the time Jean returned to their dorm after the flurry of texts he had woken up to.  Not that he actually would though; Connie had texted as well saying that Jean was already beating himself up over his stupidity, and would be hopped up on some pain medication by the time they’d return.  Marco couldn’t believe how Jean didn’t think that classes would be cancelled though:  Most of the parking lots hadn’t even been cleared of snow, let alone the sidewalks he’d been sloshing through.  It couldn’t have been dark enough for Jean to not have noticed that!  Marco clicked his tongue, picking up the dirty clothes that Jean hadn’t successfully gotten into his laundry basket, seconds before the hallway door flew open and nearly hit Marco.

  Jean looked very ruffled and annoyed, his eyes unfocused from either tiredness or pain, a sling hanging around his neck and a brace around his injured wrist.  Connie, on the other hand, looked positively exhausted and on the verge of murder as he shoved Jean into the room.  (Marco made a note to thank Connie at a different time for helping Jean, he didn’t want to be murdered by a very tired and pissed off friend in a set of monkey footie pyjamas.)  Without a single sign in Marco’s direction, Connie was gone, the door slamming closed behind him, and Marco almost could’ve imagined that Connie hadn’t been there at all.  Jean crawled onto his bed, and Marco hovered nearby uncertainly, wanting to help Jean but not sure what to do.  Jean waved him away, signing “I’m fine” over and over as if to placate him.  “I’ll text you if I need you,” Jean said and signed at the same time, resorting to fingerspelling a few of his words clumsily.  Marco sighed as he retreated to his side of the room, casting anxious glances across the room every so often, Jean remaining in almost the exact same spot for several hours.  

  Eventually, Marco felt his stomach growl, so he figured it was time to brave the outside world and get them food, giving Jean the fiercest glare he could muster when Jean moved to come with him.  With one last reminder to text him if he was needed, Marco braved the cold outdoors with the intention of getting something warm and filling.  He wasn’t gone for long before his cellphone buzzed in his pocket, and while he wanted to check immediately to make sure Jean was alright, another vicious tummy growl made him choose to continue on his quest for food instead.  Only after Marco had parked his car in the barely-cleared parking lot of a local grocery store chain, did he check his unread message.

  
  


**From:  Jean K**

Ok, I feel really weird asking this, but can you help me with my leg when you get back?

 

**To:  Jean K**

ofc!!! :)  is there anything u want in particular to eat rn?

 

**From:  Jean K**

Not particularly, as long as it’s hot.

 

**To:  Jean K**

ok!!!! :)  c u soon!!!

  
  


  Marco frowned at himself as he looked at the message he’d just sent to Jean.  Were all those exclamation points really necessary?  No, definitely not, and Marco knew he’d always had a tendency to use too many when talking to someone he had a crush on...Was he as obvious to Jean as he was to himself?  Christ, he hoped not.  Marco shouldn’t even think about crushing on his roommate, they had to live together for a bit longer still, plus it’s not likely that Jean was attracted to him as well...(But, a traitorous voice in the back of his head whispered, there’s a chance that Jean could like you as well, he has a bi pride sticker on the back of his guitar case, remember?)

  Marco couldn’t shake off that lingering thought throughout his quick shopping trip, not particularly paying attention to what he picked up until checkout.  At least he had remembered to grab something hot; four large cups of fresh chicken noodle soup, and two small cups of manhattan clam chowder, as well as a bunch of snacky foods cleared him out of almost $30.  No regrets, but he had to hurry to make sure it all wouldn’t turn into ice by the time he got back to the dorm.  As carefully as he drove to get to the store, he drove twice as carefully to avoid spilling anything (which probably earned him more than a few honks, if the number of people passing him and flipping him off was any indication of it).  No soup was spilled, thankfully, not even as Marco struggled his way back to their dorm, clutching the cups close to his chest.  It was with a giant sigh of relief that Marco finally wormed his way back into the dorm room, carefully putting down four the cups of soup (that were still warm, to his delight), turning to Jean with a small and large cup of soup in hand.

  Jean was sitting mostly upright on his bed, frozen in the middle of struggling to get his pants off with one hand.  Marco quickly adverted his eyes, embarrassment (as well as desire, but he wouldn’t even admit to himself, especially with Jean injured,) heating his face at ten times the normal blushing rate.  Marco immediately turned away, putting the soup down on the nearest flat object (which happened to be Marco’s bedside table), too embarrassed to turn around.  Jean blinked a few times rapidly, realizing that yep, his roommate was actually standing right fucking there in front of his bed.  The realization made him spring into action, (stupidly) diving for his blanket that had been shoved to the edge of the bed...Which led to Jean wobbling dangerously on the edge of the bed, unable to pinwheel himself back enough.  He rolled with it, literally and figuratively, the following loud thud probably letting everyone on the floor below know of his demise.

  While Marco couldn’t hear Jean’s fall (which was probably overly dramatic, like almost everything that Jean did, but he was still  _ not looking _ ), he could definitely feel it through the floor, jumping and turning back quickly to see Jean struggling futilely in the blanket and his pants, which had apparently dragged down almost to his ankles in the fray.  Mom friend mode, activated.  Marco hurried over to Jean’s side, signing repeatedly to ask if he was okay, not really trusting Jean’s exasperated nodding.  Jean must’ve known that mom friend mode had been activated at this point (after experiencing it twice before when he’d gotten sick during the semester), as he didn’t struggle when Marco scooped him up and placed him gently onto his bed once more, carefully give him a once-over to make sure he hadn’t injured himself again.  After pausing to grab a large cup of soup, handing it off to Jean along with a spoon, Marco watched as Jean easily wrangled the lid off and started slurping down the soup with delight, a thumbs up tossed in his direction after a particularly large gulp.

  Only after Marco’s satisfied that Jean is alright, does he return to the problem at hand.  Namely, Jean’s pants, and the need to take his prosthetic off.  Jean had once texted him the process of what he had to do to get his leg off once, not too long ago, and Marco is around 93% sure that he remembers how to do it.  Hesitantly, Marco nudged Jean around so that both of his legs were hanging off the edge of his bed, as Jean slurped his soup and easily moved how Marco gestured for him to.  With a deep breath to steel his nerves, Marco sank to his knees in between Jean’s legs, focusing on the button just a little above where Jean’s left knee would have been.   _ ‘It was called a suction valve, right?’ _  Marco’s mind asked anxiously, also vaguely noting that at least Jean was wearing black briefs, the edge of his liner leaving just a tiny sliver of skin between it and the edge of his underwear.  As if Marco wasn’t already anxious enough about being between his roommate’s legs, of course his mind decided to also recall a text conversation a few weeks ago between Connie and himself, about Jean’s...Romantic track record.

  
  


**From:  Connie S**

bruh he’s nevr been on a date as long as i’ve known him

 

**To:  Connie S**

what?????  how is that possible?????  i mean yeah he’s an ass but still

 

**From:  Connie S**

...dude…

 

**From:  Connie S**

litrally probs bc he’s an ass but the leg probs doesn’t help him either

  
  


  No, nope, not today, Marco was not going to think about that, especially not a few inches away from Jean’s crotch.  He was especially not going to think about how Connie had very blandly given his blessing if Marco wanted to date Jean.  And he was definitely not going to consider that while on his knees in front of Jean for purely platonic reasons.  (You dirty liar, Marco thought to himself, you’re definitely going to be thinking about that the whole time you’re helping Jean.)  Right, anyways, suction valve, removing the prosthetic, Marco could totally handle this.  Looking through his eyelashes up to meet Jean’s eyes (eyes that were wide with surprise, the color of his irises almost lost to the pupils), Marco slowly reached both hands out, one going to gently hold the metallic knee, while the other went to the suction valve, thumbing it carefully.  He knew that there was supposed to be a sound of air being released, and that would be when he could pull it off, so he waited for Jean to indicate that the sound had happened.

  Jean swallowed, his mouth suddenly way too dry now, even after the soup he’d slurped down.  There was absolutely no way he could’ve prepared himself for the sight of Marco on his knees in front of him, not even in his wildest dreams...But this definitely wasn’t a dream, Marco was in front of him, and he was staring up at him  (almost adoringly?  Fuck, Kirschstein, get it together!) gently, both hands on his prosthetic.  It wasn’t as if Marco looked  _ comfortable _ on his knees, but...He didn’t look upset to be there at all.  He looked calm and collected, with the tiniest of smiles at the edge of his lips, which was the exact fucking opposite of how Jean imagined he looked.  Probably much closer to a blushing mess, his face felt hot enough to fry an egg in half a second.  There was the quiet hissing sound, from the suction valve being released, startling Jean out of his own head and making him jump.  Marco let out a breathy little laugh at how he jumped, and gently tugged, looking mildly surprised at just how easily it slid off, quickly tugging Jean’s pants off from his other ankle before he could forget and accidentally rip something.

  Jean couldn’t help but fidget as what was left of his limb (still covered by the liner) was revealed, not entirely comfortable with being so...Exposed.  It’s not like he didn’t feel comfortable with Marco, it’s that he didn’t feel comfortable with his stump being the center of attention.  But he knew he’d have to take the liner off so his skin could breathe, and to clean the liner itself, and he wouldn’t be able to do that alone for a while now...So he might as well get used to asking Marco to help.  

  Marco leaned the leg against the bed, and was about to stand when Jean waved a hand to get his attention.  Jean, blushing and mumbling, signed “Can you help me get the liner off?”  Marco nodded and smiled easily, scooting back in between Jean’s legs, hesitantly reaching for the edges of the liner near Jean’s crotch.  Jean’s left hand joined Marco’s, and together they rolled the liner down slowly.  About halfway down, Jean tapped Marco’s wrist to get his attention, anxiously biting his lip and not meeting Marco’s eyes when he looked up.

  “Please don’t look,” Jean signed, wanting nothing more than to curl in upon himself instead of being forced to ask anyone to help him with this.  He had grown used to doing it on his own, too prideful to ask for help more than a few times when he was too sick or back when he was still learning how to care for his liners and leg.  Even though he was completely unashamed about his leg, the scars...It wasn’t pretty, and no one should really have to look at them.  Marco gently tapped his wrist and nodded, before squeezing his eyes tightly, blindly feeling along the liner back up to the folded over edge.  Jean’s heart squeezed, almost forgetting to breathe as Marco gently tugged the liner off, nearly choking on the one breath he was able to get when Marco leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Jean’s exposed thigh.  

  As more of Jean’s thigh was exposed, Marco’s mouth trailed down it, hesitating only slightly when his mouth touched the edge of scar tissue.  It clicked for Marco then; why Jean was much more nervous after the prosthetic itself had come off, and why he asked Marco to close his eyes.  Even though he couldn’t see Jean shaking above him, he felt the movement in his leg, and pressed even longer kisses at shorter intervals, soothingly kneading his palms along the exposed flesh, before continuing to carefully tug the liner off.  When there was no more resistance from the liner (was it all the way off?), Marco pressed on last, lingering kiss a little further up Jean’s thigh, before rocking back on his heels.  “Can I see you?”  Marco signed, eyes still closed.

  Jean tapped his shoulder, and Marco opened his eyes slowly, in case Jean changed his mind.  That didn’t seem to be the case though, as he pulled Marco up (ignoring the liner that had been dropped) and into a tight hug.  Marco did his best to ignore the slightly damp cheek against his neck, but he was the tiniest bit surprised when Jean’s right leg curled around his back.  Which, if he thought about it, kind of made sense; with Jean’s right arm needing to stay carefully still, a one-armed hug might not be enough for him.  But Marco wasn’t really thinking at the moment.  He was breathing in Jean, the mildly irritating scent of his AXE bodywash, vanilla, and something vaguely floral.  Marco wasn’t surprised to find it comforting, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips.  As much as Marco wanted to stay wrapped up in Jean, his mind helpfully reminded him about the soup that was still uneaten.  

  Pulling away slightly and wiggling his hands between their chests, Marco signed “We should eat”, nodding at the cups of soup still on the table by the door.  Jean frowned intensely, his leg tightening around Marco as he shook his head.  Jean’s fingers wiggled slightly as he tried to think how to phrase “please don’t leave me right now I need to cuddle” without sounding ultra needy.  Eventually coming to the conclusion of ‘fuck it’, Jean grumbled and frowned as he signed slowly, not exactly knowing how to sign the word “cuddle”.  

  Marco let out a breathy sound that could’ve been a laugh as he nodded, hugging Jean a bit tighter for a second before letting go they could stretch out on the bed together.  Jean apparently seemed to get what Marco was aiming for, scooting against the wall and patting the empty space next to him on the stupidly small twin bed.  Marco made sure to grab the mostly on the floor blanket, dragging it up over Jean’s waist before settling next to him on the bed.  Jean curled into him, a quick sign of “thank you” morphing into a distinct hand shape that made Jean’s ears burn in embarrassment as he tucked his head down. 

  Marco merely blinked at him in surprise, a ridiculously happy grin slowly overtaking the surprise.  He kind of wanted to squeal and kick his legs like a teenager who just found out their crush liked them back (which, honestly, he kind of was exactly like that), but didn’t want to knock Jean out of his hiding spot.  Instead, Marco bent over slightly to press a soft kiss to the top of Jean’s head, and moving one of his hands to (probably) be in Jean’s line of sight, making the same hand shape that had caused him to curl up and hide.  Jean’s eyes barely focused on Marco’s hand, but he sighed in relief as he quietly mumbled “Love you, freckles” into his chest, happily letting his eyes shut for the time being.


End file.
